


Surrender

by hithelleth



Series: In Enemy's Hands [1]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Future Fic, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:51:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of AU-ish, future!fic. I used basic information up to 1 x 04 “The Plague Dogs”, but it happens post 1 x 04. After a few failed attempts to rescue Danny, Miles and Charlie decide their best option of getting close to him is to surrender (pun fully intended) to Monroe. Smut ensues. There will be more plot in later parts, but this one is basically smut. Also, Monroe is not the ultimate villain in my universe, so they all eventually work together to bring the power back and defeat the big bad (whose identity remains hidden to me for now). My fiction, my rules, deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

“Damn it, Miles,” Monroe growls inches away from her. “You started this, and then you left!”

Her uncle is standing right behind her, almost brushing against her back and she can feel his breath on her head as he replies quietly.

“You know why.”

The men are looking intensely at each other, and in that moment something clicks and she puts it all together: what that captain said at that rebel base, the way they were lead more in the way of guests than prisoners to this monster she’d imagined general Monroe to be…

_They sneak away from Aaron and Nora in the middle of the night with a note behind them that tells them not to follow. They know they would go with them, but it is safer that way, because they are of no use to Monroe. Miles knows he is wanted alive and he hopes that might save Charlie, too. In any case, she wouldn't let him go without her._

_They walk into Philly, no one on their way. They make it within a mile of Independence Hall when they are stopped in the mid-afternoon. Miles declares their names and demands to be taken to Monroe as they take their weapons. The messenger who is sent to deliver the news of their capture to the headquarters promptly returns. They are untied, given food and water both to drink and refresh themselves, but well-guarded. Left waiting with nothing to do, Charlie can’t really get any rest, the impending meeting and the unknown fate Monroe will decide for them worrying her, especially since she can read Miles’ nervousness underneath his calm appearance._

_It is barely an hour before sunset as they are lead to Independence hall. The headquarters are getting ready for the night, and the command centre is all but deserted with the exception of the men on night watch._

_The militia man who’d brought them here announces as he opens an office door: “General Monroe.”_

_The man behind a large desk stands as they enter. There is a moment of silence, and then Monroe orders calmly, but sternly: “Leave us.”_

_The door close and now there is only the three of them in the office, the desk piled with papers and maps._

_“So, the prodigal…whatever returns, practically of his own volition.” Monroe says quietly. “How’s that?” His eyes barely graze over her, focused on her uncle._

_“Your militia is out of control.” Miles says, ignoring the remark._

_“Is that why you’re hooking up with rebels?” Monroe accuses._

_“ I've never hooked up with rebels. You know that.” Charlie can sense her uncle has to strive for the non-defensive tone, but he succeeds._

_“Is that so?” Monroe steps around the desk. “Jeremy reported otherwise.”_

_“Then he also reported I was only seeking help to find my nephew. The nephew who was taken on your orders, by your militia, oh, and let’s not forget, your militia who killed my brother!” Miles’ voice slowly rises until he yells the last words._

_Monroe opens his mouth to shout back, but stops himself, changing his mind._

_“Your nephew is on the way here. I have reports he’s alive and well.” He says instead after a moment, and Charlie’s almost washed with relief while Monroe adds: “So, if you were looking for him, you should’ve only come to me.”_

_“Yeah, so I figured, obviously.”_

_“And now I also have you. And your niece. What am I going to do with the two of you?” It’s a threat, enforced by a slow, deliberate way he approaches, and Charlie’s breath hitches as he stops right in front of her, but still virtually ignoring her._

She’s trapped between them, the two men challenging each other, her stupid treacherous body already reacting to the close proximity of her uncle, the forbidden feelings stirring inside her as they have been ever since she met him. The heat emanating from their bodies fires up all her senses.

Charlie looks at them, staring each other down, and suddenly she knows. She knows from the way Miles’ breathing deepens and how hard he is pressing his lips together, and how Monroe slightly licks his lower lip.

But then Monroe breaks the eye contact and drops his eyes to really look at her, and she holds her breath in fear and something else she can’t name. He brings her his hand to her face, his knuckles slightly brushing against her cheek. Abruptly, he yanks a handful of her hair, not quite painfully, tilting her face up.

She senses Miles starting to shift behind her but stop at Monroe’s next words.

“Lusting after you niece, Miles? Now, that’s not right, is it?”

Charlie almost chokes. What? She hears Miles draw in a breath in surprise, attempting to respond but is again cut off.  

Monroe throws a sharp glance at him: “You think I didn’t notice?”

He tightens his grip as he looks down at her again and continues. “Of course, I gather the feeling is mutual. Am I right?”

She isn't sure whether to reply at all, much less how, but as he repeats it in a quieter but somehow more menacing tone “Am I right?” she gives a barely perceptible nod.

He is fully focused on her now, and she finds herself unable to look away, although he loosens his hold.

“Pretty, your niece,” he states.

Then, suddenly he is holding her head with both hands and his mouth is on hers, and she is so surprised that she doesn't even resist the first moment, and then it’s too late as her lips give in under his onslaught and his tongue slips inside her mouth. Her knees almost buckle but for the fact that he brings his arms around her holding her up against him. He ravishes her mouth and her head spins while words like  _monster_ ,  _enemy_ ,  _wrong_ , and _resist_ , flash inside it futilely, because her reflexes take over and she’s kissing him back.

When he finally releases her to come for air, she can’t do anything but gasp.

“Come on, Miles,” rasps Monroe, as his hands grope around her waist, “take it as a token of my forgiveness. Let’s fuck her.”

She tenses instantly. Now is the time to object, fight, run. But before she can do either, Miles makes one long, determined step back, and locks the door. The look in his eyes is darker then she has ever seen.

He brushes her hair off her neck and then his lips descend upon her skin, nipping, tasting. Now her knees do buckle, but Miles’ strong hands hold her by her arms, gently but firmly while Monroe unzips her jeans and tugs them down. Next thing she knows his hand is between her thighs and in her panties, his fingers in her folds.

His touch sends tremors all over her body.

“Already wet.” He whispers in her ear, “been wanting this, huh?”

And yes, she has been, she admits to herself. She knows it’s wrong and dangerous, but it feels so good, so much more then she has ever imagined, more then she could ever made her feel by herself. His fingers tease and go still deeper, searching for her entrance.

She finches as he finds her block. His finger stills, pressing only on this side of painful.

“Virgin,” he hisses, “of course,” before he catches her lower lip between his teeth and tugs, but doesn't bite. Miles curses into her neck while massaging her breasts through her shirt. She moans into Monroe’s mouth as Miles pulls the hem of her shirt up, his hands burning her bare skin.

Monroe rubs his thumb against her little bundle of nerves and she bucks her hips into his hands instantly.

“Come on,” he urges between the kisses, “Miles.”

The name slides as honey from Monroe’s lips, and she wonders for a moment what he means. In response her jeans are being tugged further down, and then there is Miles’ hand on her as he wets his fingers with his juices and then he pushes one inside her and it stings a little. He pulls out and she moans in protest. He returns though, adding a second finger and it hurts more. She forgets the pain, though, as soon as he starts pumping his fingers in and out. It feels incredible, making her want more.

Monroe is kissing her throat, sliding his hands up under her bra, on her breast, circling her nipples with his thumbs. Supporting her with one arm, Miles adds a third finger as he teases her button with his thumb. Monroe lifts her shirt and bra, releasing her breasts, then leans down and sucks on her nipples, first one than the other. All of a sudden he bites on it and it’s finally too much. Her body convulses and she can’t think for a while.

Monroe strokes her cheek.

“There you go. Good girl,” he murmurs and claims her mouth once more.

As he pulls away he says over her head: “I don’t fuck around.”

“Well, neither do I.”

The words are full of underlying meaning.

She hears Miles unfasten his pants and she is abruptly pulled back, her legs spread and Monroe holds her steady as she is forced to bend over. Panic washes over her as she realises what is about to happen, but it’s too late.

It hurts as Miles enters her from behind, grunting how tight she is, but he makes it slow and the pain dwindles as she adjusts and then she is so full that she can’t focus on anything else. She whimpers in protest as he pulls out. Monroe backs them to a chair, dropping down his pants before he sits.

“Come,” he orders, motioning to bent down, which she does, propping her hands on the armrests, aware of how exposed that makes her. “Have a taste,” Monroe coaxes, and it takes her a second to grasp what he wants. Yet, she realizes she wants to, so she leans in.

“No teeth.” Monroe warns. She is clumsy, not knowing exactly what to do, but then she’s again being held from behind and filled. Miles starts thrusting in and out, slowly, and Monroe whispers instructions and she is awkward and sloppy but she must be doing something right because Monroe’s voice gets ragged in time.

Suddenly Monroe rasps: “Switch.” Miles turns her around to face him and Monroe pulls her back, lowering her onto him, his hands latching onto her breasts and she arches into the touch while taking him all on.

As Monroe prompts her to start moving up and down, Miles leans forward, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to kiss her, but he doesn't. It’s Monroe he kisses, and it makes shivers run all over her.

When they break apart, he takes her face in his hands and pulls her down. She’s not that daunted now anymore. She takes him in her mouth, a little wary, expecting to be disgusted, but their mixed tastes aren’t so bad. She gags when he pushes too far and he withdraws immediately, then pushes back more carefully. It’s Miles now who coaches her, whispering encouragements and compliments, while Monroe is picking up his rhythm.

Miles takes her hands and puts one onto his hip so she can support herself. He places the other on the rest of his length, showing her the motions. After she gets the hang of what it is that he wants, he reaches for her breasts. He starts massaging and rubbing her nipples, pinching now and then, then gently soothing the sting with gentle strokes.

Her vision blurs as everything in her body quickens, though her moans are effectively muffled. Then Monroe’s fingers find her sensitive spot and it doesn't take long before she explodes. She sucks hard on Miles’ shaft and he stills and comes into her mouth. She tries to swallow but manages only a little while the rest spills out of the corners of her lips.

Monroe shifts her and pulls out, but then crushes her to his chest, biting her neck to stifle his groan as he goes over the edge.

It takes a while before she registers she’s resting her head against Miles’ stomach as he’s supporting himself with one hand on Monroe’s shoulder, Monroe slumped back in the chair, all three of them still catching their breath.

After some time, Miles cups her chin, tilting her head up, and then he kisses her, licking himself off her lips. It’s slow and gentle, and hot, and it feels the most right thing ever.

There is a washbasin in the corner of the room and some with some towels which they now use to clean themselves up as much as they can. They rearrange their clothes as well as they can. Miles and Monroe successfully, while Charlie feels dishevelled, as if everything on her is screaming of what has just happened. She runs fingers through her hair, trying to make herself presentable.

They stand still, looking at each other for a few seconds. They seem decent enough, even if a bit flushed and out of breath, but that’s improving by the minute. Monroe scans the room, and they follow his eyes, surprised that the room holds no evidence of the fact that their world has just shattered and assembled back in a completely different way. The only sign might be the dimming light, a tell-tale of the time passing.

Monroe steps to his desk and lights the candles there.

“I’ve got something to do, but we’re not done yet today,” he says matter-of-factly, his voice again half-threatening.

He strides to the door and opens them. A different man than the one from before comes at Monroe’s summons.

“General Matheson and Miss Matheson are my guests,” he motions to them and the man’s eyes widen in confusion followed by something like awe at the name.

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket, picks one and hands it over to the man: “Escort them to my quarters, then come right back.”

“Yes, sir!”

They don’t say anything as they leave, and Charlie gratefully leans on Miles’ offered hand, because she’s not sure she could walk on her own without stumbling.

The door behind them closes.

***

It’s not far to Monroe’s suite. After letting them in, the guard promptly turns and leaves without saying a word, and they hear the lock click behind them.

“Well, I guess guests aren't allowed to leave when they feel like it,” Miles states the obvious with an edge to his voice, though unsurprised. He strolls left down the hallway and Charlie follows. The second door on the right is open, revealing a sort of a lounge equipped in antique-looking furniture.

Charlie sits on one of the sofas, still collecting her mind, while Miles strides right to the bar table set against the opposite wall. There’s liquor and a large jar of water. He fills a glass and drinks it, then fills another and brings it over to Charlie.

With the first sip she realises how thirsty she is, so she drinks it all at once and passes the glass back. All the while, they don’t say a word.

Miles walks back to the bar and just stands there, looking out the window. Eventually, he pours what looks like bourbon into his glass, and downs it.

“And I only get water.” Charlie manages a sarcastic tone, though her voice is coarse and she needs to clear her throat afterwards.

Miles looks at her quizzically, but then he shrugs.

“You’re right.”

He pours her a drink and brings it to her. She takes a sip and shudders as the burning fluid runs down her throat.

Miles stands beside her, waiting, and she can tell he’s preparing a speech. She looks up right as he opens his mouth, just in time to stop him with a raised finger, shaking her head. She can’t talk about any of it right now. She gulps down another mouthful, then sets the glass on the table aside, and gets up.

“There must be a bathroom somewhere,” she says by way of explanation, heading for the door.

“To the right. The left door at the end.” Charlie takes a few steps before the words sink in and momentarily freeze her on spot. Of course, Miles would know the place. She goes on, and finds the door slightly ajar, bathroom behind it, just as he has told her.  

Monroe chose the place wisely. The house is old she thinks, but what does she know, she wasn’t paying attention half the time in the village school. The point is, the plumbing is old-fashioned, the pipes winding down from the hills, building the necessary pressure without the need for pumping, thus independent from a power source.

She takes care of her things, splashes her face and neck and arms, careful with the water but glad of the refreshment it provides. She leans on the sink for a minute, remembering bathing in a cold stream just this morning, before the final leg of their journey to Monroe’s camp, and can’t believe it was just this morning.

She returns to the lounge and sits down on the sofa again. Miles throws a glance at her, evidently assessing her state, searching for - what, a sign of her breaking down? - she smirks and picks up her glass. She sees Miles nod to himself as if satisfied with whichever kind of evaluation he was doing, then he exists the room, and she can guess by his steps he’s headed for the bathroom, too.

She leans back and slowly starts sipping the bourbon. It’s only now that she allows herself to think a little. It’s strange how calm she feels. She should’ve probably been freaked out, but she isn't. Maybe it’s the relief at learning that Danny is fine. Naturally, Monroe could have been lying, but if he wants to use Danny as a bargain tool, Danny probably suits him best if he is all right. Or is it that all of the things she only dreamt about and the things she didn't even dare to fantasise of have come true?

Miles comes back shortly, resuming his position by the window. She swallows the last gulp and puts the glass away. Then they just wait in silence.

Before long, there are sounds of keys turning and the door opening and closing, being locked. Monroe comes down the hallway, sparing them only a glance, not particularly hostile, but it makes Charlie’s stomach twist as she remembers his threat-slash-promise: “ I'm not finished with you yet”.

They hear Monroe walking around from one room to another. At last he walks into the lounge. He stops in front of Charlie, scrutinizing the room before looking down at her.

“I see you've made yourself at home,” he says as he offers her his hand. “I suggest we move to somewhere more comfortable.”

He gives her a pointed look, and after a moment of hesitation she accepts his hand, allowing him to pull her up. They are impossibly close this way and all her senses that seemed numb revive in the proximity.

He places the other hand behind her head, looking at her face closely, and she thinks he’s going to kiss her again, but he releases her head, although he still holds her hand firmly. He turns to the door, tugging her with him.

“Come,” he says, glancing back at Miles. After a heartbeat, Miles follows.

He heads for the door at the end of the hallway, which open into a spacious master bedroom. Figures. Charlie doesn't have the time to look around, though. No sooner they are inside the room, and Miles closes the door behind them, than Monroe spins her around and crushes her to his body, kissing her hungrily. They are both panting as he pulls away.

“We’re overdressed,” he announces as he backs away, his eyes once more pointedly glancing from her to Miles.

She watches him as takes off his uniform jacket. Leaning on the drawer, he kicks off his boots. He undoes his belt and his shirt buttons while he keeps watching them.

With a sigh, Miles shrugs off his jacket, discarding it on a nearby chair. He has made a decision, and there is no hesitation in his moves as he proceeds to take off his boots.

Monroe approaches her again, and she knows this is the last chance for her to...He draws her close, his hands firm on her back as he pulls her in for another, a more slow, deliberately seductive kiss.

She knows she should do something, she knows she shouldn't let it happen again, but a part of her is tired of fighting, tired of being strong, tired of being the one in control and his body is solid and his skin hot under her hands, and his scent intoxicating, so she just gives in.

Miles comes closer, stroking her hair while she is consumed by Monroe’s kisses. He pries her hands off Monroe to shed off her jacket. Monroe breaks off, rolling up the hem off her shirt and she lifts her arms so he can take it off.

He backs her to the bed, and she sits, scrambling back while he pulls off her shoes before leaning over her. His hands roam her skin, hot and demanding, but strangely gentle, and his mouth joins them, kissing, tasting, ravishing and she whimpers in pleasure, searching for places to touch him, anywhere she can reach, just to feel him under her hands.

When he stands up, she reaches after him, reluctant to let him go, but then there is another mass of skin and warmth and those more familiar hands turning her head to look at Miles’ face. It takes a second for her to register that he is fully unclothed, but instead of shocking her, the fact sends a rush of excitement through her body.

He looks at her, questioning. Charlie takes his face into her hands and pulls him down. His lips are soft against hers, slow, and warm, comforting. She moans into his mouth in pleasure, deepening the kiss.

Monroe tugs her jeans down and climbs back in the bed, Miles rolling her onto her side, bringing her in full contact with his body to make room for Monroe, who now trails wet kisses down her back.

She arches into his touch while at the same time trying to get closer to Miles, craving their proximity. They oblige her only gladly, wrapping her with the heat of their bodies. Between kissing and stroking, they part only for as long as they need to slip off her underwear.

Then there’s only bare skin and touching and feeling and tasting. She surrenders with abandon as the heat pooling in her stomach spills all over her body. She returns, though, touch for a touch, kiss for a kiss. Her insides are on fire, her head a mess, unable to discern her own moaning from theirs.  

They make sure to keep her on the edge, postponing the ultimate point of pleasure until she’s utterly lost, pleading for release. They let her come then, finishing all over her belly shortly after.

She’s not sure of how much time passes while they lie just catching their breaths. Her whole body feels like Jell-O, her limbs immovable, her mind empty.

She is faintly aware of Miles getting up, and later of the coolness of the wet cloth and murmured words as the men clean up all three of them. She perceives being moved, and the cover pulled over her. Miles re-joins her, and she snuggles into his arms, Monroe’s chest pressing against her back.

Miles brushes her hair and kisses the top of her head, and she could swear she can feel Monroe kiss her hair, but she’s too sleepy. She might hear some indistinct words whispered, not sure whose, as she sinks into oblivion.

***

Sometime later quiet voices steal into her mind. She can’t distinguish the words but the tone is comforting. Just before she’s about to slide back into sleep, she remembers where she is and how she got there.

That helps her instantly regain full consciousness, one question perturbing her mind. What am I supposed do now? Her head is blank, without an answer. She lies still; at first just because she doesn't want to show she’s awake. Then parts of the conversation actually register with her brain.

“…have to get the power on.”

“…the rebels…might know…”

“…they do…you could find out…the renegade you are…”

There’s a low chuckle.

“If it gets into the wrong hands, it will be worse than now, without it.”

“I know.” A sigh.

She tries to put the parts together, to make sense of them, not that it’s working, she’s just too sleepy and she lets some of the conversation slip past her.

A feeling of fingers running through her hair brings her back.

“She’s a strong girl.” And after a pause: “I’ll take care of her.”

“Not sure if that’s reassuring.”

“Huh.”

A silence so long follows Charlie isn't certain she doesn't just imagine the next bits.

“Bass, I…”

“Don’t. Not now…”

Miles sighs.

She waits, quite alert all of a sudden, but they don’t say anything else. She shifts slightly to find just a bit better position. There are half-formed questions at the back of her mind, but no answers. Instead, there is an unexpected, lulling sense of warmth and safety washing over her. Deep down in the corner of her mind she knows it’s ironic she feels like that, but she’s too comfortable and tired, and she hasn't slept in a real bed for weeks, so she just yields to it and falls back asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed. All mistakes are mine. Feedback is always welcome.


End file.
